


the landscape after cruelty

by ichabodcranemills



Series: Spyvember [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Road Trips, Soft Doctor (Doctor Who), Soft Master (Doctor Who), Spyvember Prompts (Doctor Who)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 9,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27400678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ichabodcranemills/pseuds/ichabodcranemills
Summary: "Here's a crazy idea: what if we just... hang out?"The Doctor and the Master give this friendship thing another try. They might have fun. They might even... be happy together?Chapters inspired by Spyvember prompts, but it's a single story.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Series: Spyvember [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079240
Comments: 41
Kudos: 63





	1. Mood lighting

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Richard Siken's "Snow and Dirty Rain". This poem owns my entire heart.
> 
> This story is set in the same universe as chapters 2 and 3 from [It's just blood under the bridge](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27035968/chapters/66004633#workskin), but you don’t have to read those unless you want to. In short, the Master rescued the Doctor from the Judoon prison and she got the cyberium out of him. Now, let’s hit that sweet, sweet fluff.

The Doctor leans against the console and takes a deep breath. She needs maybe a couple of years to process all that’s happened, but at least she had a good night’s sleep and has a nice cup of tea on her hands.

(if Graham would consider the tea horrid, that’s entirely his problem).

She’s only had a couple of sips when she hears the footsteps approaching. The Master enters the room sheepishly, avoiding her eyes.

“How do you feel?” she asks him, taking notice of his slumped shoulders, the defiance and pride all but drained from his form.

“Like shit.”

“Eh, it’s a start.”

The Master laughs, shakes his head, and walks to the console. He leans by her side, their shoulders touching. She gets a second tea mug and offers it to him. He takes it, gratefully.

They drink in silence for a while. There's nothing to be said or, at least, not yet. The TARDIS pulses in soft shades of pink and coral and it’s like taking a breath. Like coming home.

Their hands brush on the console and the Doctor interlaces her fingers with his.

She looks at him. “I'm glad you're here.”  
He smiles, looks forward and, very slowly, lays his head on her shoulder.  
“Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Spyvember](https://valc0.tumblr.com/post/633592131995484160/introducing-spyvember-yeah-soif-anyone-is) is a wonderful collection of fluffy prompts organized by @valc0 and @ineternity.


	2. Stowaways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party, part.1

“This was such a stupid idea,” the Master mumbles, trying to keep his voice as low as possible.

“This was a brilliant idea!” the Doctor doesn’t have the same care. He puts a finger on his lips hoping that she’ll get the hint.

“You could’ve flashed them your psychic paper. I could’ve hypnotized them. Literally _anything_ was better than this.”

 _This_ being the two of them squeezed in a wooden crate at a space station loading dock, waiting to be carried inside a fancy star cruising ship at a ridiculously early hour because the party was too exclusive and the Doctor couldn't get tickets for it.

“Then why are you here with me?” she asks, smugly, putting her hands behind her head, making herself comfortable - as comfortable as one can be sharing a tight wooden box with another person of medium size - and opening a huge grin.

He has no answer to this. He’d said yes at first because he had nothing better to do and she was his ride. When it became clear how stupid her plan was, he just went along with it because-

Because…

He crosses his arms and sulks, looking away from her stupid smile and sparkling eyes. “This party better be worthy.”

“When have I ever disappointed you? Don’t answer that,” she adds, seeing as he puts his fingers up to start enumerating the times.

After another few minutes, they can feel the crate being lifted and carried away. The Doctor giggles.

“Why is this so entertaining to you?”

“Love being a stowaway, me. I was once one on the Titanic, you know? Two Titanics, actually. And Queen Elizabeth X's arc. Neither had a good ending but-”

"Ugh, spare me the storytime."

Surprisingly, she stops talking and just smiles at him. He looks at her. Her silly face. Her pretty lips. 

Stupid!

Stupid lips. 

"So..." the Master asks, to avoid any awkward silences "How long till this party?"

"Uhm, five hours. When the ship hits cruising speed we can leave and mingle."

"Lovely."

"Yeah. My legs are cramping."

"Hang on," he says, shuffling until he is sitting by her side, so they can have more legroom.

"Oh, thank you."

He rolls his eyes at her surprised tone. It's not entirely comfortable this way either. Their hips are pressed together and the Doctor is warm. Too comfortably warm in that cold cargo area.

The Master suppresses a yawn.

"Tired, are we?"

"No."

"We did leave very early."

"I'm not tired!"

The Doctor laughs. "Whatever you say."

He leans his head on the crate wall and blinks once. Twice.

"Master." her voice sounds very far away.

"Uhm?"

"I'll wake you up when we can leave."

"Shut up. I'm not tired."

Her soft giggle sounds like a lullaby.


	3. Napping in inappropriate places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party, part.2 - the consequences of being a stowaway

There are voices, accompanied by an annoying tapping and a sudden flash of light before her closed eyelids. The Doctor chooses to ignore all of it. It's so cozy in there and she deserves just another five minutes-

“Comfortable, are we?”

The Doctor’s eyes snap open and she takes a moment to find her bearings. Her neck hurts. That might be because it was awkwardly propped against the wall of a crate. 

The Master’s arms are wrapped around her torso and he is still asleep, laying on her stomach. Of course he got the cozy pillow. He stirs in his sleep and it’s unfairly cute. 

She has a flash of a few hours ago, when he slipped through the crate until his head fell to her lap. She then had adjusted him to a more comfortable position, pushed his hair away from his face, and her hearts raced at the sight and the feeling of it all. It was so peaceful. And she was afraid to let herself believe in that peace. She dozed off as well, leaning into his embrace because, for the first time in who knows how long, she felt safe enough to do that.

“Ahem.”

Oh, yeah. Someone is talking to her. The Doctor turns to the origin of the sound. There's a very imponent and elegantly dressed ship captain looking at her. His handsome aura somewhat diminished by the way he is frowning and tapping his foot impatiently. The Doctor shifts to face him. The Master holds her tighter.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asks, commanding. Three crew members stand behind him, apparently torn between wanting to laugh or be angry at the situation.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” she says, sitting down. The Master grunts in protest of the loss of his body pillow “I’m afraid my colleague and I got sleepy in the middle of our rounds.”

“Rounds?” the captain asks, suspicious.

“Sure! See here,” she pulls the psychic paper out of her pocket and waves it to the captain “This will explain exactly who we are and why we are in the basement of your ship.”

“Cargo inspection?” he reads, sounding unconvinced “Doesn’t explain why you were sleeping in an empty crate.”

“Oh, that would be because-, eh...” time for plan B. The Doctor hurriedly shakes the Master awake.

“ _What?_ ”

“Would you so kindly explain to this good captain why we were inside this empty crate.”

The Master blinks in confusion. The Doctor points their audience with her head. He looks at the captain and his crew, and turns back to the Doctor with a smug grin.

“Now, fellas,” he begins, his voice laced with hypnotism "I'm sure you'll notice we're not laying in a crate and are, in fact, doing perfectly normal and expected activities."

The Doctor lets out a breath in relief.

 _Told you it was a stupid idea,_ he projects into her mind, while still talking to the crew.

 _It was a brilliant idea until you got all sleepy and made_ me _sleepy too!_

_Whatever you say, love._

They watch as the captain and his men walk away, distracted. He gets to his feet and offers her a hand. The Doctor glares at him. 

“Oh, come on, don’t sulk.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“We have a nice party to attend.”

The Doctor ponders and decides she can sulk another time. She takes his hand.

“And it’s an excellent party. You’ll be thanking me for decades to come.”

"I'm sure I will."

She also decides to ignore the sarcasm in his voice.


	4. Necks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party, part.3 - the Doctor discovers the joys of wearing a dress and all Time Lords are repressed victorian lesbians.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Having the Doctor having fun wearing a dress just because I think dresses are the most entertaining article of clothing? Just as likely as you might think.

“You know what?” comes her voice, triumphant “I’ve changed my mind, this is very fun.”

The Master shakes his head and does a final check on his outfit. All in black except for a purple tie that makes him look both distinct and striking. 

“Told you you’d like it, love.”

They didn’t bring clothes for the party so they are, erm, borrowing some from the entertaining crew’s wardrobe. The Master exits his dressing booth, pleased with what might be his biggest achievement so far: He talked the Doctor into trying on a dress. 

He's adjusting the curl of his pompadour when the Doctor steps out, donning a midnight blue dress.

She’s still wearing her bulky boots - the Master had no hopes of convincing her to take them off. Besides, the Doctor in heels? That would be a public menace - and spins around to show him the outfit.

“Look at this!” she says, making the skirt swoosh around her legs “And: it’s got pockets!”

She shoves her hands into them and looks at the Master, expecting his commentary. His gaze follows her movements, from the ridiculous boots, the flared skirt that reaches the middle of her calves, the fitted bodice, to the bateau neckline that really brings out-

The Master blushes when he realizes what he’s looking quite intently at. Perhaps the dress was a terrible idea.

“What?” she frowns, disappointed "Something wrong with it?"

Her slender neck tenses as she speaks and that's just... the worst possible thing it could happen.

"Of course not" he rushes to say, looking away from her “It's a perfectly reasonable dress. I’m just surprised there are no rainbows in sight.”

“Ha, that’s where you’re mistaken!” from the dress’ pocket she fishes out a delicate rainbow hairband and places it crookedly on her head "I think it also might help with the hair, it does get on my face all the time," she adds, scrunching her face.

The Master can’t keep himself from smiling.

"It won't help if it's like this. Let me fix it for you."

She stands obediently in front of him, trusting his hairstyling abilities more than her own. As she should. He moves to push the tips of her hair back and only when he is halfway through the movement is that the Master realizes his mistake. It's too late to stop it, so his fingers brush her neck and both of them freeze.

"Sorry," he mumbles.

"No!" she quickly adds "It's all right. It's just. I'm not used to- to uhm, touches."

Tender touches on her neck, he imagines, as last time he stood so close to it he tried to choke her. The Master swallows, trying to erase those memories from his head, and takes a step back, away from the Doctor. Except she takes a step towards him.

And then - impossibly, insanely, he is sure he is hallucinating this whole thing - the Doctor leans on his touch. His breath catches in his throat, his hearts pound, certainly loud enough for her to hear.

Instinctively, the Master opens his hand. His fingers gently cradle the nape of her neck, his palm spreads on the length of it. She shivers slightly under his touch, welcoming it. She presses closer to him and it reminds him of the Academy, skipping classes to lay on the red grass fields with Theta, bury his face on his neck and-

The Doctor looks at him, expectantly. The full intensity of her hazel eyes is too much for him to bear. The Master snaps out of his daydream. 

He removes his hand, and it feels empty without the heat of her skin. He fixes the hairband, takes another step back and she doesn’t follow this time.

"I think we should go," he whispers.

The Doctor nods. Her expression is unreadable. She leaves the room without waiting for him.


	5. Standing on tiptoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party, part.4 - partying until sunrise

The Doctor walks the corridor always two steps ahead of the Master. She doesn’t want to look at him and she certainly doesn’t want to think about what’s happened in the dressing room, whatever that was.

Except she _knows_ what it was. It was that same weird gravity that always pulls them together, has them circling each other like binary stars, ever since they were kids, running until they ran out of breath and collapsed together on the red grass, Koschei all tangled up in Theta.

(Yes, he’d projected that thought loud enough for her to hear. She thinks he didn’t even realize that. She hopes he didn’t.)

When the Doctor proposed to the Master that they’d try this, after the prison escape, the cyberium, and a night contemplating the stars together - "here’s a crazy idea: what if we just hang out?" -, it was only meant to ease a bit of the drama. Have them try to be friends again. She hadn’t considered the potential side effects of wearing a dress. To be fair, she hadn’t considered wearing dresses at all.

She sneaks a glance behind her back and sees the Master quickly looking away. She sighs and just hopes that it doesn’t damp their night.

They arrive at the doorway to the ballroom. It's exciting to be at a party like this. Not just because of its grandiosity, but because she is here just for fun, not for a mission. And, if she's being honest with herself, because she is here with him. 

The Doctor waits till the Master catches up with her. They eye the hall together, the nice food, the couples dancing, the game tables, and the very impressive stargazing deck. The Master touches the small of her back as he leans in to look and it's so soft - just the ghost of his fingers noticeable through the fabric of her dress - that the Doctor doubts he has even noticed what he's doing. 

Once they're inside, they go their separate ways.

"Have fun," the Master says, before walking away. 

His final glance at her is devoid of any awkwardness. The Doctor breathes in relief and goes fetch herself a drink with a tiny umbrella. And perhaps a touch of ginger.

Between talking to the other guests, folks from all corners of the galaxy, playing games without completely understanding the rules, taking some turns on the dance floor, and downing a few more drinks, the Doctor has crossed paths with the Master a few times, but didn't linger by his side. And that is perfectly fine, except...

Except-

Her hand keeps distractedly going to her neck. Maybe, she wishes he would- Well. She's not quite sure what. The Doctor doesn't know what she expected of him after he touched her. She just knows that it felt right. And even if the idea of the Master catching her longing for his touch is mortifying, it feels right that he did touch her.

She looks around and spots him, not so far from her. The Doctor walks to him with a purposeful stride and a nagging idea in her brains.

"Wanna dance?"

He’s talking to someone, a tall, green alien who seems on the verge of making a shady business proposal, but as soon as the Doctor speaks, the Master turns to her as if the other person had never been there at all.

" _You_ want to dance with _me?_ " he asks, suspicious.

"It's a party. We should enjoy the full party experience."

The Doctor tries to rationalize what she’s doing in many ways. The only logical conclusion she achieves is:

Screw it. She wants to dance with her best friend.

The Master seems almost frightened of taking her hand. She waits, gives him his time. He takes a deep breath and takes it, laces his fingers with hers, and lets her guide him through the tables.

It is by no means a romantic song. It's perhaps not even the kind of song people should dance to in pairs, but they do so anyway and soon become the sensation of the dance floor. They spin around each other, making up moves as they go, in perfect synchrony. When the Doctor dips the Master, some people even cheer.

Everything washes away, the awkwardness, the tension. It’s just fun. His brown eyes sparkling under the golden lights of the room, fun. Their hands touching and every twist and turn of the dance, fun. For the final beat she pulls him closer to her, their chests flush together and her hearts racing is fun too. 

They find themselves on the stargazing deck as the party ends. The cruise approaches a red dwarf star, to give the impression of a sunrise. 

"It’s so beautiful," she says. 

"You say that about anything," the Master answers, looking at her.

The Doctor turns around to face him. "Thank you for tonight," she says, standing on her tiptoes and planting a kiss on his cheek.

Before he can react, she bolts to a food table, to get the last bits of dessert. She sneaks a glance back and sees the Master put his hand on his kissed cheek, failing to suppress a tiny smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of the party arc! What are you thinking so far? I'd love to hear your thoughts! <3


	6. Slumber party + pillow fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slumber party, part. 1 - nights of mischief

Koschei was following his very irresponsible friend down the hallway on his tiptoes, trying to be as quiet as possible.

“Theta, I’m not sure this is allowed.”

“We’re going to our bedrooms before curfew, it’s fine.”

“But we are supposed to sleep in our own rooms.”

“Kos, stop freaking out! What we're doing is entirely within the rules”

When they arrived at the Academy, both boys had been plagued by nightmares and, becoming fast friends right away, they had spent a few nights in sharing a bedroom, fending off their fears by having each other's company. But as soon as the inspector discovered their arrangement, he put an end to it, claiming that future Time Lords were expected to be mature enough to handle problems so silly such as bad dreams by themselves. 

That's why, Theta considers, what they're doing tonight is okay. Their plans for the evening have nothing to do with immaturity over nightmares!

They finally arrive at Theta’s bedroom. He opens the door and invites Koschei in.

“I never heard about a slumber party before," he says, standing awkwardly next to Theta's bed.

“Granny Two used to do them all the time. They're fun.”

“Isn’t Granny Two the one who’s a zygon spy?”

“No, that’s just a lie Granny Five used to tell,” Theta explains wisely “She's cool.”

“Okay,” Koschey says, uncertain “Well, I’m here. Now what?”

“Now we stay up all night. Telling stories, playing games, and…”

From inside his robes, Theta pulls out a bag and proudly show its contents to Koschei. "Ta-da!"

“Theta!” Koschei covers his mouth with one hand in shock “You’ve raided the kitchens!”

“You can’t have a slumber party without baked goods!”

Despite himself, Koschei laughs. Theta feels very proud of himself. Their first slumber party promises to be the first of many successful ones.

\--

The Doctor’s eyes snap open with the most brilliant idea. She tiptoes to the Master’s bedroom.

He’s so distracted by whatever book he’s reading in bed, that he doesn’t even notice when she opens the door. She creeps towards him, moving from shadow to shadow, still unnoticed.

When the Master finally raises his head, he has half a second of warning before she hits him on the face with a fluffy pillow.

He’s still recovering when the Doctor positions herself for a second strike. At the very last instant, he manages to roll off the bed and avoid it. She advances towards him, relentless. The Master grabs his own pillow and raises it above his head in defense.

“What are you doing?” he asks, out of breath.

“Slumber party!” she gleefully announces, hitting him successfully one more time.

\--

(Of course, when the inspector made it clear that slumber parties were not, in fact, within the rules, enough of Theta's disobedience had already rubbed off on Koschei. For their whole stay in the Academy, he had no objection to joining his friend for nights of mischief ever again.)


	7. Cinnamon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slumber party, part.2 - baking

Unfortunately, there are no kitchens stocked with meals for hundreds of students in the TARDIS and, therefore, no cakes to be stolen. Which means they’ll have to make their own slumber party food. The Doctor says she’s fine with just custard creams and jelly babies, but the Master shakes his head.

"Can't have a slumber party without baked goods"

“I taught you that," she says, smugly.

“You did. I’m a dutiful student," he confirms, before turning to her with a cheeky grin "Unlike you.”

The Doctor rolls her eyes and goes in search of the ingredients he asked. 

They prepare the batter together, despite his many complaints about her cooking skills, and only once does she 'accidentally' whacks him with a wooden spoon.

“Behold," she announces, lifting the food to eye level "A beautiful cinnamon roll. Too good for this world, too pure.”

The Master takes it from her hand to analyse it. And promptly stuffs the whole thing into the Doctor’s mouth.

“That meme is old.”

“ _I_ am old,” she says around a mouthful of cinnamon roll.

“That you are,” he says with an affectionate smile, running his thumb through her cheek to clean a smudge of powdered sugar.

The Doctor smiles back at him, ready to enjoy the tenderness of this moment, when his expression changes, almost too fast for her to follow. Sadness bleeds through his smile and the Doctor knows what he's thinking, because it's the thought that haunts her sad moments too. The realization, or better yet, the question of her age. How old the Doctor truly is. What that means for her. What it means for them.

The Doctor can’t let his head go there, so she shoves the plate of cinnamon rolls in one of his hands, grabs the other, and balances a bowl of popcorn on her other arm.

"Come on, we still have to pick a movie," she says, too fast and too loud to be casual, but at least they're out of the kitchen and away from the dreadful silence that makes them think about things that will hurt.

The Master follows her dutifully, but she is still concerned. She tightens her grip on his hand, unsure on whether or not to project reassurance in his mind. It might offend him and makes things worse.

"Doctor."

She runs down the corridor, almost too distracted to hear him.

"Doctor!" he repeats, louder and giving her hand a slight pull.

"What?" she turns to him, trying to hide her anxiety. The Doctor can tell he's struggling too, pushing away what hurts him and it's not fair! They're just hanging out, they're friends, they deserve that kindness at least, don't they? 

The Master swallows and wets his lips before saying.

"Anything but Disney, I beg you."

The Doctor lets out a shaky breath in relief.

“Fine," she says, giving his hand another squeeze "But I’m not watching anything with Teletubbies, I swear it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, there will be a moment for them to properly address the pain of the Timeless Child discovery. Perhaps not in this fanfic.


	8. Cuddling on a rainy day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slumber party, part.3 - memories in the greenhouse

The slumber party lasts for three days and nights. They agree that slumber parties should last for as long as the participants are awake and neither of them feels particularly tired. They watch a movie, play a game, go back to the kitchen for more snacks, dance to something ridiculous, another snack, another movie. 

A lot of times they just snuggle together on the couch and talk about whatever.

"So I was there, up to my knees in poisonous goo, the treacherous lizard I'd ally myself with nowhere in sight-" his story is interrupted by the Doctor's suppressed yawn.

"I'm sorry, am I boring you?"

"No!" she says, patting her face to shake her sleep off “Your story is really interesting. I want to know how you thwarted the smugglers."

"How do you know I thwarted them?"

"You wouldn't be telling that story if you hadn't won at the end, go on."

Before he can even open his mouth, the Doctor yawns again.

"Okay, that's it,” the Master put his hands on his thighs, preparing to get up “Time for bed."

"No!” she jumps from the couch and starts walking “It’s just that we stood so still for such a long time. I’ll just make us another drink."

He follows her to the kitchen where she prepares a ridiculously sweet hot cocoa for both of them. Before she can pass him the mug, the Doctor points up, an enchanted grin spreading through her face.

"Listen to that!"

He does. It doesn't impress him.

"It's raining. You landed us in England. Of course it's raining."

"Oh, I love laying down and being lazy on a rainy day. Let's go to the greenhouse room. It’s the best room in the TARDIS to notice outside weather. Then we can hear the rain and you finish telling me about your adventure."

They share a sofa and the Master continues his story. As he finishes, he realizes how close the Doctor has come to him. Her cocoa mug is forgotten on the floor and her thigh is pressed against his. He’s about to point this out, and perhaps push her away, when she lifts one arm and starts running her fingers through his hair.

“See? I know you’d beat them.”

Her voice sounds sleepy and distant, but affectionate. He clears his throat, uncertain of what to do. 

“Of course I did. I always do.”

She laughs through her nose. “No, you don’t. I've lost count of how many times _I_ had to get you out of messes you created trying to beat _me_!”

“Who said that wasn’t my plan all along?”

“Yeah, maybe it was.” she agrees and leans closer to him, snuggling on his shoulder.

"You're very tired, aren't you?"

"No," she says, blinking very slowly. Her head drops to her chest, so the Master lays against the sofa’s arm and pulls the Doctor with him, laying her on his chest. A thunder roars above them. One of her hands is still threading through his hair, she wraps the other arm around the Master.

“Remember that first ice storm when we just arrived at the Academy? You were afraid of the thunder and ran to my room. Storms were probably the only thing that didn’t scare me in that dreadful place, so I held you until you fell asleep.” 

He remembers and laughs at the memory “Please keep a more dignified image of me in your head.”

She laughs too and whispers something he can’t make out. It might be ‘Koschei’. It might be 'love'. It might be both. His breath gets stuck on his throat.

"Doctor?" he whispers

"Hmm?" 

"You can go to sleep."

"But you're still awake," she pouts.

"It's not a competition."

"Isn't it always one?"

His fingers tremble as he tenderly pushes her fringe away from her eyes.

"Not this time, love."

The Master is tired, but he doesn’t want to sleep. There will be nightmares he's running from. He doesn't want to see the cyberium, growing and spreading its tendrils through his brain, doesn’t want to see Gallifrey, burning and falling apart, doesn’t want to see the Timeless Child, tortured again and again until he realizes he has no choice but to burn Gallifrey, doesn't want to see the Doctor suffering and leaving and hurting him, over and over.

The Doctor holds him tighter. "I wish I could take away your fears now too.”

He doesn’t answer and she doesn’t seem to expect him to. Just keeps holding him, her breath warm on his collarbone, her hair tickling his chin. Once her breathing reaches the telltale rhythm of slumber, the Master finally lets himself relax and plants a soft kiss on her forehead. 

Her body is small against him, but she is huge, her heart, her mind, all of her. So much more than him. The Master tries not to cry from the turbulence of love he feels for her. The Doctor mumbles something in her sleep, her hand tightens on his shirt and he covers it with his own.

He takes a shaky deep breath, wishing he could stay here forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of the slumber party act or, how I also call it, the "remembering Academy times" arc


	9. Coffee shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intelude - what happens next?

The Doctor tries not to make too much of the fact that the Master can’t look her in the eye.

She knows she fell asleep over him in the greenhouse, but that couldn’t possibly have been so bad, could it? She might have snored a lot. But that wouldn’t be it, He would be mercilessly making fun of her if it had been the case. She woke up alone on the small sofa, but he had covered her with a blanket and even found her a pillow, so he couldn't have been crossed.

Maybe she’d said something meaningful in her sleep. That would be awkward.

Maybe _he_ had said something meaningful thinking she was paying attention, and now she acted as if nothing had happened and that was even more awkward.

Maybe he’s getting bored of this arrangement.

The Doctor could confront him. Ask him what the problem is. Instead, she has landed them next to a coffee shop, told him to go inside and get them something, being quite vague about what she wanted. Gave him plenty of space to get out of her sight. If he’s really tired of her, he can run away without explaining himself, which would also work if anything that happened while she slept made things uncomfortable.

The time passes excruciatingly slowly as the Doctor tries to keep her brain from running too many scenarios of why would the Master want to leave. The big question behind it, the one she doesn't want to ask is: why would he want to stay? Or why would she want him to stay? It's not like they wouldn't find ways to hurt one another eventually. It's not like she ever got to keep him in a way that wouldn’t hurt.

Maybe she should leave.

The Master comes back. He must’ve been gone five minutes. The Doctor finds herself being able to breathe again. He has two caramel macchiatos in one hand and a bag of pastries in the other. He sits in front of her, passes her one drink, sets the food between them.

“Are you okay?” he asks, one raised eyebrow “You look even more flabbergasted than usual.”

The Doctor nods once before speaking “I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“Careful or you’ll hurt yourself, dear.”

She ignores him and digs in the pastries, not waiting for him. After a moment or so of silence broken only by her chewing, he asks, “Okay, will you tell me about what?”

“Yes,” she nods, mouth filled with croissants “Where we can go to next.”

He blinks, a shadow of sadness crosses his face. _You can leave, if you want to._

“Okay.”

_But please don't._

“Where to then?”

The Doctor’s face lights up like clouds parting after a storm. 

“Ok, here are my ideas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short moment before the next arc begins. Happy Doctor Who Day!


	10. Road trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Road trip, part.1 - driver and shotgun

The Doctor couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on a road trip. Somewhere with Bill, surely. Driving along the Hadrian wall to give her some lesson about the purposelessness of great empires? Or driving from Brighton to Bristol to try as many fish and chips as they could before Nardole could track them?

In any way, she hadn’t packed to drive in ages.

She and the Master had spent the best part of two days scavenging the TARDIS in search of anything they might need on the road. Blankets and snacks and books and shoes and drinks and, finally, clothes for different weathers. All were safely stored in bags that were bigger on the inside, so they could look like proper backpackers and not the sort of people who carry their house with them when they travel. As Donna would, the Doctor thinks, with a smile.

The Master's awkwardness had slowly faded as they packed, but he still kept a reasonable distance from her. The Doctor could deal with that. He seemed to be keen on staying with her. And a road trip would be fun. It would push away boredom and remind him that no matter what, this was what they wanted, since always: to be friends, traveling together, calling out at the sky. 

“I’m driving.”

“You’re most certainly not.”

“I’m the better driver.”

“You’ve never even seen the kind of cars they use on this planet. I’m driving.”

“Actually,” said Kia, the kind insectoid alien that was helping them rent a car, “Our Happy Road Trip guide says the most appropriate way of safely driving through the beautiful roads of Montecino Hexagon B is by taking turns.”

He opens a professional smile. The Doctor and the Master exchange a glance. Choosing a planet had gone well, roughly tracing a map of where they wanted to go was okay too. The problem had only started in the car rental agency, when the Doctor and the Master couldn't settle on a car and model. Kia's enduring politeness at the face of the bickering duo had actually made them want to bicker more. But now he had a point.

“Fine, I guess. I could rest and enjoy the view for the first leg.”

“Actually,” the Master pondered, scratching his beard, “I have the right to be the first. I’ll pick the music and hold the snacks.”

“You- how dare you-?”

As their voices raised in a lively new discussion, neither of them took notice of poor Kia pinching his nose, regretting the decision of being their sales assistant that day. They were having too much fun for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more little sweet chapter before :)


	11. Fireworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Road trip, part.2 - the festival

The trip around Montecino is filled with a joyful simplicity that a trip via spaceship simply doesn’t carry. They get to slow down to see the different trees, gaze at sunsets and, although the Doctor knows that nothing compares to watching stars on the roof of the TARDIS drifting through a galaxy, it's also lovely to do so on the roof of a car on an area with no light pollution. Not that the Doctor will ever let the TARDIS hear her thinking that. She’s sure her ship is annoyed enough as it is, being safely parked back on the Montecino’s capital. She’ll make it up to her, though, and take her to a nice energy rift as soon as they’re back. 

"Stop worrying about your ship, we'll miss the fireworks." the Master calls her, already several steps ahead on the road.

"So, what's with this festival?" he asks, once she reaches him "What does this peaceful, boring planet has to celebrate?"

The Doctor rolls her eyes at _boring,_ well aware of how much the Master has been enjoying this trip.

"It's their independence day."

"Independence from what?"

The Doctor smiles and points at a sign.

_This area used to work as a Judoon holding facility before the native inhabitants took back control of the planet and send the legal enforcements away. Now, Montecino is a class 5 independent country, not submissive to any external forces._

"Oh, you're just loving this, aren't you?"

"I can't very well go back there and blow up the prison as you suggested. So consider this my way of flipping them off."

The Master squeezes her shoulder.

"I've never been more proud of you, love."

The Doctor smiles and pretends his touch hasn't sent a buzz through her skin.

They buy mulled cider (or something that looks like it), candied fruit and find a rooftop to watch the firework spectacle. It's a clear night and they have great seats.

The Doctor is enchanted by the lights but, when she sneaks a glance to the side, the Master is looking at her. She hits him with her shoulder to bring his attention back to what's important.

"Look at that one."

"What?"

"It’s a roman candle. They're my favourite type of fireworks. But they're so disregarded nowadays."

"Why?"

"Too crude, I think. Rough. Wild and unpredictable. Everyone prefers the pretty spectacle of peony fireworks."

"Always cheering for the underdog.'

"Well, not always."

"Sure," he says, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"It's true!"

The Doctor looks at the fireworks again, avoiding his eyes.

"You know, a while ago I had a crush on this guy. The very opposite of an underdog. Top of his class. Fastest runner of the school. Aced his driving exams. Excelled on psychic studies."

The Master looks down, shakes his head with a sad half-smile on his lips.

"I heard he fucked it all up."

"Well, yeah. But isn’t that what all these big geniuses do?"

"Don’t do this, Doctor," he turns to her, his voice somber.

"Don't do what?"

"Revisit those times," his eyes are huge, locked in hers "When you still cared about me."

She blinks, baffled by his words, surely he knew the truth? All this time they've spent together had been more than enough to show him, hadn't it?

"I care about you."

"But you loved me then. You don't love me anymore."

For a second the Doctor can't hear anything other than her own heartbeats, see nothing but his beautiful face, bathed in the technicolor of the fireworks.

The thought was simple. The meaning behind it, not so much. You meet a boy, you love him. You spend two thousand years hating him. You keep loving him all along. But how could he tell? How could he know if most of the time, you didn't know yourself?

And yet, one of the few certainties of her many lives was that she had always loved the Master.

"You're wrong," she whispers "I-"

"Don't-" he starts, putting his hand up, gesturing for her to stop talking "This was a mistake."

He pushes himself away from her and jumps down. The Doctor raises, intent on following him, but he hastes away from her.

"Master!" she shouts after him. He doesn't look back.

The Doctor flops back on the rooftop. Her hearts are racing and her eyes burn with the tears that threaten to spill from them. She doesn't move. The fireworks sparkle pink and red and golden before her, but she doesn't see them anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter. It got angsty. Had a happy ending though. I came back later to edit it. Realized I should erase all the happy ending. Realized I had to add a new tag to this fic. Comments? :)


	12. “I thought I’d lost you”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Road trip, part.3 - contact

The Doctor roams the festival looking for the Master, without much hope of finding him. The food and game stands are beginning to close and even while she walks between them, distressed, she knows he wouldn’t be in a mood for a party. She forced herself to remain sat at that rooftop until the end of the fireworks. Let him have his time away, if he’s so desperate for it, if he’s so unable to believe that she-

She puts a hand over her eyes. Why would he believe she still loves him? Hadn't she herself believed this to be impossible until he rescued her from prison? It's complicated. They are complicated. But she does love him. And, deep within her, she knows he feels the same. There is just too much hurt in all four of their hearts to see it. But they could clear the mess. They've been civil enough to spend all this time together, after all.

Once it becomes obvious he isn’t there, the Doctor walks back to their hotel. She’s sure they can fix this. They can even talk about it. That would be good, wouldn’t it? The kind of thing that Graham is always telling her to do. Talk. Yes, she’ll talk to him, she’s brilliant at talking.

And now she’ll do it with meaning.

"I’m sorry, he hasn't returned since you left together."

The Doctor gazes at the receptionist, certain she’s misheard them.

"No, no. You see, my friend, the one with a beard and the purple clothes? He must have been here. Big brown eyes and-"

"Ma’am, I wouldn’t have missed him. You two are quite… unique."

Of course, it’s a planet of insectoid creatures. Two humanoids stand out like anything. The Doctor thanks the receptionist and walks outside. Their car is still in the same place. She retraces her steps to the village, paying attention to the sides of the roads, maybe he's stopped to rest somewhere or?

He’s not on the road. He’s not at the festival. The Doctor considers announcing him on the speakers, but that would be deeply humiliating for both of them, so she does the next thing she can think of.

_Contact_

They haven’t communicated telepathically since that night on the cruise, but then it had been casual. Just an efficient way to talk so that other people couldn’t hear. All the time they’ve spent together she could feel the door still open. The possibility of reaching him again was always there, in case the necessity arrived. 

However, the longer they stayed together, the more it felt like doing so again would be… too intimate. His constant presence in the TARDIS has already affected her, caused something much more intense than she's prepared to deal with. That urge to be around him that makes her keep finding excuses to touch him, to look at him. The way her body responds when he enters a room because she can feel him before she sees him. Getting into each other's minds on top of all of that would simply be too much.

But now she’s doing it and he’s not answering.

Not only not answering, but she can’t even feel a wisp of his psychic presence.

He’s no longer in this town.

The Doctor's mind starts working at full speed. Maybe he's been taken by someone. It seems like a peaceful planet, but the Master has enemies in all corners of the galaxy, and wouldn’t here be the perfect place to get him?

Or - she rolls the thought around her head like it's a pill too bitter to swallow - she can consider the much more likely possibility:

He's left her.

Her mouth goes dry. It’s very possible and he wouldn’t need the car to do that. Their vehicle is much more of an amusement, a fun novelty, than anything else. If the Master wanted to leave he would be able to do so in much more efficient ways.

The hollowness inside her mind when she calls for him again borders on painful, but she tries one more time, projecting so much psychic energy that, if a telepath is around, he'll have a hell of a headache, but still, no response.

She pulls out her sonic and scans the festival. There's no malicious presence. No energy discharge, no alien ship, nothing. She sits on a nearby bench.

He’s left.

Why would he do that? Was just the possibility of confronting their feelings already too much? Would he really do that?

_Isn't that what you would do, Doctor?_

She doesn’t want to accept, doesn’t want to face the truth or pay mind to the cruel voice in her head.

_It is what you do, isn’t it? Run away whenever things get too serious? Whenever the feelings get too intense?_

She shakes her head and tears fly from her face. She’s not like this. She loves people and she sticks around them.

_But not around him._

//

The Master is going, he decides, to kill every single one of these pests.

_You can't kill them. She'd be so angry._

As soon as he made it back into the village, a group had approached him and invited him to play a game of cards. He wasn’t interested in it, but he wanted to get away from the Doctor and it was better than to stay in the town square, listening to the jolly music and over sweet food that only _she_ liked. So he followed them to a basement and it took him longer than it should've to realize that this was shady. But he was distressed. Even now, when he knows he should kill them, his mind is still on her. _Focus._

As soon as the gang realized that he was from a telepathic species, they activated a psychic shielding to prevent him from using any special skills. And that seemed fair enough. He was still very good at reading people, even those with insectoid beady eyes.

They were scammers, targeting tourists and robbing them blind in a rigged game. So he declined a third round and tried to leave. It wasn't enough for the scammers and that’s when they tried to gang up on him.

The Doctor told him to not take his TCE outside the TARDIS but she’d sure be glad he's carrying it now _stop thinking about the Doctor._ He changes the settings to stun and fires. Maybe they'll lose a few inches, but nothing deadly. This is a _peaceful_ planet, and the Doctor will never let him hear the end of this if he kills them. That is, if she ever wants to speak to him again. 

The Master walks up the stairs, determined to leave this whole ordeal behind him. When he opens the door, though, he is hit with a wave of psychic energy that nearly knocks him back. He is still trying to find his bearings when the Doctor shows up, wide-eyed and shaking.

"You’re here."

"Are you the one doing this?" he rubs his eyes to alleviate the pressure in his brain "Stars, Doctor, I’m going to faint.”

She looks to where he's came from, sees the passed out bodies of five Montecineans, and frowns.

"What-"

"Let’s get out of here, I’ll explain on the way," he says, grabbing her hand and pulling her away from the scene.

The Master explains the situation and why he had to do what he did, but the Doctor doesn’t respond, she’s just looking stunned at their linked hands. A few steps away from the hotel, he stops walking and looks at her.

"Why are you cross? They are bad people and I didn't kill them."

"It's not over them," she answers, her voice strained

"Doctor? Are you okay? You-"

"I- I thought I’d lost you," she mumbles.

"Well, you did. But that’s because they set a psychic shield and-"

She crashes against him and he staggers back. She buries her head in the crook of his neck, and she’s being messy, projecting concern and relief and desperation all over the place, like a Time Tot, and he’s about to scold her for it when she speaks again.

"I thought I’d lost you!"

It’s so heartfelt and sad that the Master finds he can’t mock her for it.

"I was right here, love," he whispers, taking one hand to her head and softly stroking her hair.

The Doctor wraps her arms around him. She binds her thoughts and it’s no longer like he’s being punched by her wave of loaded emotions, but then she starts crying, her fingers dig into his back, and his shirt gets wet from her tears.

"Not just here."

"What are you talking about?"

"I thought I'd lost you, so many times."

He doesn’t want to hear it, doesn’t want her doing that again, pretending that she cares about him 

"Doctor, you’re really exaggerating-"

"I thought I'd lost you," she repeats and it’s strong enough to give him pause "In the Time War and in the Valiant and in Gallifrey and every single one of those times I thought I'd lost you for good. And it was horrible, every time. It never gets easier just because it's happened before."

The Master hugs her back. There's a lump in his throat, a heavy weight settling in his chest. He doesn’t know what to think and doesn’t know what he's feeling because it’s almost as if she’s saying she l-

"I hate you."

That’s more like it. He chuckles and presses a kiss to her forehead.

"I know."

"For everything you did, all the ways you hurt me."

"I'm sorry," he says, holding her tighter

"All the ways I hurt you," her voice is smaller now. So soft. Almost too soft for him to bear.

"If it makes you feel better, I hate you too."

"I know."

"I'll hate you for as long as we both shall live."

She peels herself from his chest but keeps one arm wrapped around him. She lifts her other hand and cups his cheek.

"Don't you dare die before me, I won't allow it."

The Master takes a deep breath. He could taunt her now, the Timeless Child. Tell her she'll always outlive him, how many more regenerations he has, she'll still have more. The words are set, ready to roll off his tongue with the practiced ease of centuries of cruelty. But he holds them back because, deep down, he doesn't want to hurt her. She’s looking at him expectantly. Perhaps expecting the blow, perhaps daring him not to hurt her, just this time.

He takes the dare.

"I won't. I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of the road trip arc! Can you tell this was my favourite part?


	13. Piano

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanging in the TARDIS pt.1 - lost-and-found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a real bitch. I struggled a lot to get this chapter done and I'm upset over it because the end of this story is near and I really loved writing it so far. I want it to end on a high note (ha, note, piano :D) I hope despite all that you like this one. Please let me know what you think. Well, I'll stop complaining and let's hit the... fluff?

The Doctor is doing repairs deep inside the tropical forest when she finds a hatch door she doesn’t remember ever being there. She pulls it open, struggling with the weight and, when she looks inside, her breath gets stuck in her throat. It’s Missy’s piano.

The Master is bent over a bench in the workshop, looking at three different blueprints at the same time and tinkering with a miniaturized death ray. The Doctor calls him and he looks up. She hesitates to speak further, he raises an eyebrow.

"Is everything okay?"

"I-" she swallows, shakes her head. Then nods "Can you come with me for a second?"

He follows her through the TARDIS's corridor while the Doctor refuses to answer any of his questions. When they get to the room where she placed the piano, she takes a deep breath before pushing the door open. Next to her, the Master gasps.

"I don't want to do anything with it until I talk to you."

He walks to the instrument, brushes his trembling fingers over the keys. She can tell he's angry. _That's it,_ the Doctor thinks. _Now is when he leaves._

She won't try to stop him and the piano is a reminder of why she shouldn't. Because "keeping" isn't what a friend is supposed to do to another. Because it can be cruel. Because you can give them all the trinkets they ask for, take them to every star, love them more than life itself, have them around as a promise of forever, but if you lock them up for it, then it’s just a prison. It's not proof of care. It will come back to hurt you. 

The Master looks at her, rage and grief dancing in his eyes.

"Well, I suppose we should play."

The Doctor’s mouth hangs open "What?"

"Come on," he says, gesturing for her to join him on the bench.

She takes careful steps towards the piano and sits beside him. He lays his hands on the keys, takes a deep breath, and starts playing.

"You’re better at this this time around," he points, trying to encourage her, her fingers tap the keys with uneasiness.

"I’ve learned a lot from you."

Her voice is strained. With what he can’t tell. Nostalgia, perhaps. Or guilt. The Master would understand if it was, but he’d tell her not to. The Vault was a terrible experience, but he’d loved so much of it. Seventy years with the Doctor all to herself. Every minute after, he missed those days.

He speeds up, settling on a joyful melody. The Doctor’s gaze is still on him. 

"Focus on the keys, you keep losing the tempo."

"Sorry."

"I feel like you’re on the verge of asking me something," he says. It's a risky move, but it’s only fair. Things have shifted between them, since the road trip. They’re still guarded around each other, but trying to be as honest as they can.

The Doctor raises an eyebrow. He nods. "Go for it."

"Gallifrey."

He shakes his head. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You said," she goes on, ignoring his refusal "'I didn't do it for me’. Does that mean you’ve done it for me?"

His vision closes in as he remembers the hypocrisy, the cruelty of the Time Lords. It still hurts him and he'd burned it all over again if he could.

"They hurt you and stole from you, for ages."

"I didn’t ask you for it."

His fingers are shaking too much, so the Master stops playing. He looks down at his hands, can almost see the blood still soaking them. He closes them into fists.

"It’s not about what you ask. You’d never ask for it. But they had it coming."

The Doctor finally looks away from him, plays a sad, short tune, her jaw locked.

"This is a terrible way of loving."

"And is that too much to expect?" he says, searching her face, desperate "That I would love you to the point of destruction?"

"A terrible love indeed", she repeats, still not looking at him, and the meaning sinks into his hearts.

 _That's it, then,_ he thinks, _Now it’s when she sends me away._ Because the Doctor is capable of many things, even genocide, just like him, and she is just as capable of doing horrible things for love, but she wouldn’t tolerate horrible things done in _her_ name, horrible things done out of love _for_ her. She might not want to lose him, might not want him dead. But she certainly won't want him around. 

There’s a tear, dancing at the edge of her eye and she looks so, so sad. He wants to hold her, tell her he’ll never let anything hurt her again, even though this is an impossible promise. Tell her he’ll be gentle, for her, he’ll never hurt anything again. That’s an impossible promise too.

'Let's play."

Her voice sounds cold to her own ears. She can’t forgive him. She can’t trust him not to do something terrible again. But it's not like he can't ever forgive her either. Perhaps they’ll never be anything other than terrible creatures. It doesn’t mean they can’t have each other. Can’t love each other until the heat death of the universe, as terribly, as gently as they can.

"Doctor," he says, carefully "Are you sure about this?"

"No."

She starts playing, but he doesn't follow her. He covers her hand with his own.

"Doct-" he starts, but she kisses him before he can finish, swallows his words and his doubts, kisses him for the past they've lost, the non-guaranteed future they can dream of. She kisses him for all the centuries she’s spent wanting to kiss him and couldn’t, or wouldn’t, or had lost him. The Master kisses her back, puts his hand behind her neck, and pulls her closer. Their teeth clash and it’s awkward and messy with how much they just want to touch each other, get closer and closer until nothing could come between us.

The Master stands up, pulling her with him, still kissing. The movement makes the bench fall to the floor with a loud bang. They let go of each other, startled by the sound. Then start laughing.

She takes his face in her hands again, smiles at his smile.

"Hey."

"Hi."

They join foreheads, eyes closed. The Doctor nudges her mind tentatively towards his, just a touch. He lets her in, completely.

_All of me, love. All of me is yours._

_I'm not asking for it. I want you to be your own. I just want to be around._

He smiles, the Doctor can feel the movement under her lips, and in her mind. It's colorful, and bright, and calm. 

_For as long as you want._

She laces his fingers with his and pulls him with her. The TARDIS dims the lights as they walk, hums softly under their feet.

And something cracked in their hearts finally feels like is healing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a piece of dialogue that didn't really fit with the flow, but I don't want to erase it. It shows a headcanon of mine and I don't this fic to go without it:
> 
> _“You’ve sent the children away,” she points, he doesn’t know how she knows this but suspects she investigated during the time she kept going back there.  
>  “The children had nothing to do with it.”_
> 
> Okay, I'll stop talking now.


	14. Morning Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanging in the TARDIS pt.2 - we were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want

The Master wakes up with the TARDIS's daylight simulation shining from a crack on the curtains. It would bother him if he hadn't just had the best night of sleep in ages. And if he hadn't found out he actually likes this ship a lot. The Doctor is still asleep, one arm loosely wrapped around him, her head resting on his chest. No nightmares when she is around.

He runs his fingers through her skin, tracing her shoulders and back. She stirs awake, looks up at him with a smile.

"Mornin’," she says, voice heavy from sleep.

“Good morning,” he answers, brushing her hair away from her face.

"What’s for breakfast?"

He laughs, slips away from underneath her, and lays his head on the pillow so they're at eye level.

“I’m not cooking for you, love.”

The Doctor grunts, wraps herself around him, peppering his neck with kisses. "Please?"

He's almost distracted by it, but she won't win him over that easily. "It's your turn to cook."

She works her way up, kissing him until she reaches his mouth, "You hate my cooking," she whispers against his lips, which he can't really deny.

He's prepared to protest, but she shuts him up with another kiss, with her hands threading through his hair, with the golden haze of joy and peace she's projecting. Their minds are still somewhat tangled, have been so since last night and the Master never wants to let go of this, the golden light warming up his heart like every dream he ever had.

He breaks the kiss, holding her face between his hands, and stares at her. 

“What?” the Doctor asks, shy from the attention. 

"Nothing," he pulls her into his arms, plants a kiss on the top of her head, "I think I finally got what you want."

"Waffles."

“No! What you want for real.”

“And what would that be?”

“I guess you want me to stay.”

She giggles but he can feel her hearts racing where their bodies meet.

“Took you a while to figure that out.”

"Every genius has their days off," he answers, trying to play it cool, but his hearts are thundering too and he knows she can tell. He can't help it, amazed as he is by just having the Doctor in his arms. Knowing she won't run away. Or, at least, won't run without him. Not for a while.

"So, about these waffles..."

"Ugh, fine!" he pushes her away and she snatches another kiss before he can stand up.

"Also we're meeting the Fam later today,"

"I am not hanging out with your pets."

"Oh, come on. You'll love them."

"I highly doubt that."

"Okay, I promise you won't want to kill them."

"Not even the old one? Unlikely."

"I'll take us somewhere grim and violent, just how you like."

"That's what I'm supposed to expect from now on?"

"It comes with the package."

It's a good package. The best he could ever hope for.

"I suppose I could live with it."

She projects another wave of contentment and he finally manages to walk away from the bed.

“Hey, Doctor," he calls from the door "Until when should I stay?”

The Doctor sits, hugs her knees, considering. The Master, despite his better judgment, hopes she says 'forever', even though this doesn't exist. It's a concept that Time Lords don't even acknowledge. He holds his breath, waiting for her answer.

“For as long as we can get," she states simply, with a smile bright enough to cast light on every shadow of his heart. 

“Yeah," he smiles back at her "We could do that.”

It is, perhaps, as close to forever as they can get.

And that's all they need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end!
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who read, kudo'ed and commented. I hope you enjoyed this little journey, it was really fun to write. And thanks again to Valc0 and ineternity for creating Spyvember <3
> 
> Ps. I have a few extra chapters with other prompts from Spyvember which I wrote something for, but then decided didn't fit the plot from this story. I'll post them eventually as a part.2, I don't know when, because I have to focus on my Big Bang fic, but hopefully still this year. I hope to see you there! :D


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